Forgetting to Forget
by Angel of Insanity
Summary: [Oneshot] Lucy can remember Mr. Tumnus, the coronation, and all major events leading up to the stag chase. What she can’t seem to remember is to forget about Peter’s kisses and the love they shared all those years ago. PeterLucy, slight CaspianLucy


**Forgetting to Forget**

_Summary: _Lucy can remember Mr. Tumnus, the coronation, and all major events leading up to the stag chase. What she can't seem to remember is to forget about Peter's kisses and the love they shared all those years ago.

_Warnings: _incest, mentions of sex, a vague mention of masturbation – heed the "M" people, flames will be ignored.

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Peter has always been Lucy's _High King_. Even before wardrobes, white witches, talking beavers, and winning epic battles, he was her king. Two months after his fifth birthday, Lucy came into the world with brilliant blue eyes and a toothless smile. The impossibly stern towheaded boy took one look at the chubby pink bundle and fell in love. Their mother, who said that he was five going on thirty-seven, believed it was the first time he actually acted his age.

_Emperor of Frayed Tablecloths and Chipped Teacups._

_Lord of Fending off Nightmares._

_Knight of the Order Dedicated to Protecting Lucy._

She knew what to expect from Peter once the shock of being _in_ Narnia wore off. Even though it seemed selfish, Lucy believed that eight years of being her big brother prepared him for the responsibility of ruling a vast kingdom. He has always been her rock, so, it is no wonder he would be frantic over Edmund's safety, save them from the wolves, and bravely faced down the White Witch in battle.

He kissed every scrapped knee, picked her up after every fall, and wiped up every snotty nose. In short all the things more, and less, important than the war for a free Narnia.

Lucy can't quite pinpoint when exactly her feelings for her brother turned on their head. She always _loved_ him. But, maybe when she was thirteen, that love evolved into something that made her skin flush and a strange warmth ball up into her stomach. She tried to talk to Susan about it, because Susan was seventeen and knew about _things_, but it didn't work very well. Mostly because her beautiful sister kept pressing her for details, details she couldn't give.

Susan wouldn't understand. Edmund would never, _ever_ understand. The gentle queen would be full of pitying looks and soothing words. The just king, however, would break magnificent king's nose and refuse to speak to valiant queen again. There are things that should never be spoken; even at thirteen she was old enough to know that.

For three more years, Lucy _valiantly_ pretended that Peter's strong hand on her shoulder and his lips on her forehead were all that she needed. All that she wanted. So, on her sixteenth birthday, two months after his twenty first, when his lips crashed violently into her own, she couldn't help it that her knees gave out from under her.

"Lu," his voice was raspy and his tall frame was bent over double trying to keep her from collapsing onto the ground. "Lu, I never meant…"

Then, Lucy lifted herself up by his shirtsleeves and crashed into him. The second kiss was more teeth than lips, she bashed her nose against his cheek, and then knocked her forehead on his chin when she was coming up for air. Even so, the young queen flushed pink from pleasure and promised herself, even above Peter's objections, that it would happen again.

Before that moment she had been Narnia's Virgin Queen. Peter, undoubtedly, had his fair share of dalliances. Susan had shared _at least_ kisses with a handful of her myriad of suitors. Even Edmund, dear sweet Edmund, had experienced more than she had. But then Peter kissed her roughly, the small of her back pressed up against an old stone fountain, and she kissed back with a whimper in the back of her throat.

She never wanted to be known as the _Virgin Queen_ again.

For seven more years, they took their time getting to know the contours of the other's body. Peter was all firm lines and taut muscles, his hands battle worn but smooth, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with the tiniest of wrinkles. When his breath traced her naked skin, she could feel the curve of her breasts that he spoke so reverently about. When his fingertips slid over her hips, Lucy imagined the small dip that he nipped at with perfect white teeth. And, with his teeth grazing her earlobe, she could believe that her hair was indeed light spun, rather than the color of dirty straw.

There were very few times Queen Lucy ever felt alive; dancing to the fauns' music, charging into the heat of battle, standing in the presence of Aslan, and moving under Peter's skillful hands. When his calloused fingers toyed with her heaving breasts, when his lips grazed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and when their bodies moved in together like the tide, that was when she could find herself in being lost in him.

When she stared longingly at the wardrobe, after those seven long years had disappeared in the blink of an eye, it wasn't just longing for Narnia. For Aslan. For home. It was because her entirely too young, too old, eight year old self knew what it was liked to be touched until she yelled with it. Lucy could remember days of sneaking away to lie in spare bedrooms of empty castle wings, giggling and kissing and making a mess of pristine linen sheets. Even as she stood there, eyes glued to the polished wood, the memories began to fizzle and fade until it might as well have been a dream.

No one, not even Peter, knew she cried herself to sleep for three weeks after the stag chase lead them back to the fur coats and Professor Kirke's footsteps.

_Emperor of Empty Laughter and Half Smiles._

_Lord of Uncalled for Guilt and Hurt Feelings._

_Knight of the Order of Ignoring Lucy's Love._

A year later and she was a very grown up nine. Nine and not close starting puberty, nine and remembering a time when it wasn't exactly wrong to want your brother. Right before they were swept off the railway stop, Susan and Edmund both ducked into the loo. It was the first time since the night before the stag hunt, when Peter kissed her so tenderly, that they had been alone together.

"I miss you," she managed to choke out before her small hand clutched to his larger one. "And not just like _that_, because I know I'm much too _young_ to be having _those_ feelings. But we never talk anymore, Peter. Where's my _High King_? The one who was mine before Narnia?"

He let her hold his hand, because little sisters could still do that, but coughed and lowered his voice because Edmund was rounding the corner. "You might be too young, Lu, but I'm certainly not. It _hurts_ sometimes just remembering…"

Just then Susan came around, practically beaming because they were talking to each other at last. Edmund even smiled, although it looked like it took him a great deal of work to do so, and then they all piled onto the sturdy bench. And even though Peter never finished his thought, Lucy _knew_.

Because, sometimes, she ached where she wasn't yet supposed to ache and her heart broke thinking about her cold, distant brother asleep in the other room.

And just like that they were back in Narnia again.

It was her faith, Peter would say between fervent kisses, that held them together after the shock of seeing Narnia beaten and bowed. After one thousand two hundred and eighty eight years went by in the blink of an eye, it was her courage that kept them from crumbling like Cair Paravel.

Even though Caspian was all of thirteen, the same age as Peter when he was first crowned king, and full of brash cockiness, Lucy's eyes never strayed from her brother. In the course of days, they seem to grow older, stronger, and suddenly she feels like Queen Lucy the Valiant and nine year old Lucy Pevensie is a fond memory.

Although there is a war and she is not quite as old as she believes herself to be, although it's surely older than nine, they still find time to slip back into each other like an old habit. Susan thinks it to be the magic of Narnia, bringing them back to themselves and Edmund simply looks suspicious. But no one dares mention the amount of time they spend together or how, in all the stories, they were the only king and queen who never seriously considered marriage.

Lucy chuckles and says, even as Peter nips at her collarbone, that the old stories read like more of a romance between the High King and his youngest queen. They don't even mind much when the Telmarines mix words like incest, taboo, and sin in with their insults. Although the Narnians don't believe, it is the closest they have ever been able to tell the truth.

After the war is won and Caspian is crowned, Lucy clings to some small hope that Aslan will let them stay a while. She even promises, in a small, scared voice, that they'll visit Archenland, travel the seas, never step foot in Narnia for as long as Caspian's reign if only they can stay a while longer. Peter's eyes are desperate, either with the idea of never returning, of losing her again, or both, and Lucy knows she's never felt so small in all her life.

The Lion only smiles, silent promises catching on his breath as he moves past them, and she feels hopeful even after they arrive back at the rail station. Her brother, her lover, her king looks despondent and she knows it's nothing a hug can fix. Not even a face full of kisses.

If he could return to Narnia again, even just one last time, it wouldn't make things any better between them.

But somewhere between making new friends, studying for exams, and getting worked up about holidays, Lucy forgets to forget. In the back of her mind she can still feel Peter's breath on her neck, his hands running up her sides, and his knee parting her legs even as her arms open up to embrace him.

She writes explicit letters with a shaky hand and burns them before she even dreams of sending them to Peter. During the winter hols, he brings home a picture of a girl that he met while on a day trip to the village and Lucy touches herself for the first time since leaving Narnia. It's the first time she's done so without her blond brother watching and somehow she feels empty inside.

Surely, village girls aren't what Aslan would have wanted for Peter. Once a king of Narnia, always a king of Narnia. Certainly red headed slags with blouses yanked down far too low won't help her brother find Aslan in their world.

_Emperor of False Promises and Shattered Dreams._

_Lord of Letters that Don't Say Anything._

_Knight of the Order of Making Lucy Jealous._

When she is ten and they are staying with the prat, Eustace, Lucy gets sucked into Narnia through a picture. Perhaps it's because she's half drowned and sopping wet, but sixteen year old King Caspian looks like the Peter she loved since she was thirteen the first time. And, although his hair is more gold spun than Peter's and his eyes more green than blue, she can't help but want things once she starts to feel like a queen again.

Only Eustace, as utterly useless as he can be, seems to understand that she wouldn't have exactly minded if Caspian had allowed her to _share_ his room instead of giving it up entirely. But he seems caught up on the fact that she was only a year older than him before they stepped through the portrait and she runs out of breath reminding him that she was once a brave and wonderful queen.

And remembers things that he hasn't yet begun to dream about.

Caspian, however, needs no reminding. Even though he isn't Peter, she lets him kiss her cheek and grasp her hand when they study the constellations late into the night. But, even so, after everything they faced aboard the Dawn Treader, she still keeps forgetting to forget. His hands aren't quite as sure when they tug up her tunic, his lips are chapped and not as full, and his body hasn't quite captured the leanness of an experienced warrior. He isn't Peter, but, after all of Peter's distant gruffness, Lucy isn't sure she _wants_ Peter anymore.

Until the End of the World, Lucy convinces herself that she can be happy with Caspian. That, if given the chance, they can have the life denied to her and Peter. But then, Aslan takes them aside and explains _they _can never go back but _Eustace_ can and Lucy wonders if this is all a punishment.

Peter's punishment extended to Susan, who was too blind to know how her siblings truly felt about one another. Her punishment extended to Edmund who never spoke up, even when he had an inkling. But the look of sadness in the Lion's eyes is enough to draw her up short and Lucy never thinks of things like that again.

_Emperor of Calm Silence and Soft Glances._

_Lord of Always Behaving and Never Acting._

_Knight of the Order of Loving Lucy until She Dies._

Susan only speaks of Narnia once more after she grows up and she does so while clutching Lucy by the shoulders and sobbing violently. "I never meant," she says, "to let him hurt you. I never thought he would be capable of such a thing."

Lucy scoffs it off, pretends to be interested in a fashion magazine, and manages to wiggle out of her sister's hold. "I loved him, love him, will always be in the process of loving him. We just have to wait, is all. For Narnia."

Lipsticked, high heeled, and perfectly coiffed Susan only huffs and runs out of the room in a fresh burst of tears. Edmund goes after her and never says anything at all.

Even though she is only seventeen when the train accident occurs, Lucy knows she would have never married. And, while the rest of your life seems like a pretty long time to stay so lonely for so long, she's convinced she possessed the courage to do just that. Because, truly, she could never be alone with Peter so close by and loving him as a sister in England would be better than losing him all together.

But, when she stands in the _real_ Narnia, breathing in the smell of the fresh and new, it dawns on Queen Lucy that she won't have to wait for forever. Her laugh rings like a bell and she hurries to pick up her skirts, all too aware that Peter is fast on her heels.

Suddenly, it becomes very important that she forgot to forget. Otherwise, it would be very hard to pick things up from where they left off that night in Cair Paravel and she has always hated awkward reunions.

Once _her _king, always _her _king and they have almost three hundred years to catch up on.

**fin**

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_Note:_ The dates I used are as follows: Lucy is born 1932, the four enter Narnia 1940/1000 (first date is by our dating system, second is Narnia's), the four leave Narnia 1015, the four enter Narnia a second time 1941/2303, Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace voyage with Caspian 1942/2306-7, the "End" of Narnia 1949/2555. I simply used math to get the ages and such. Also, in the books, Lucy is blonde, I chose to go ahead with that description rather than the movie's.

I've always wondered what it must have been like to live out all that time, to experience all that life, and then have to start back again from scratch. To go from being 23 to 9, to carry around all those fuzzy experiences, must have been quite a load. Plus, I needed an outlet for all the Peter/Lucy feelings I've been having since watching LW&W.


End file.
